The hall with its tall stained glass windows was surprisingly empty on this cloudy day.

  Where the castle servants usually ran in brisk flocks, it was now as quiet as a graveyard.

  Like a graveyard. I don't feel like going there. A skinny old man in a red robe faded from

  time was waving his finger in the air, biting his lips in excitement. Obeying his will, blood

  flowed out of the vessels along the walls. Even in a world where demons had long ago

  defeated and almost banished the light gods, few wanted to join such a vile magic.

  For hemomancers or blood mages, the basis of their power has always been their blood first

  and foremost. No matter how many servants you sacrifice, the first drop of blood in the ritual

  must always be yours. And you must give it throughout the ritual. You could literally feel

  your power draining out of your body with the blood. Dying of blood loss, absurd as it may

  sound, was commonplace for a hemomancer. For their blood was both mana and power,

  and power could always be used to excess. The old man used a ritual knife to cut the skin

  on his chest, watching as his long ago black as tar blood flowed out onto the floor, giving the

  sacrificial blood its otherworldly dark hue. The blood flowed filled with magical power. There

  was a distinctive odor in the air, the abundance and density of which could easily make an

  unprepared person vomit on the floor. But this odor did not bring any discomfort to the

  owner of the castle. It was as familiar to him as the aroma of freshly baked bread is to a

  baker.

  Many magicians dream of absolute or at least relative immortality. For is it a worthy fate for

  the empowered to crumble into dust one day without leaving a trace. For an ordinary

  servant devoid of magic such a life is quite natural, to live his short life and leave behind a

  corpse that will be eaten by worms. And so Crimson Ridge's master and archmage of blood,

  Victor Sangius, decided to cheat death. But how do you cheat the basic law of the universe?

  That's right, to take advantage of help from outside the world. Demons of the underside

  have always been ready to meet the ambitious magician, naturally as payment demanding

  the most valuable thing a person can have. His immortal soul.

  But if you're not going to die, you can try to trick the original evil. But to do that, you had to

  get in touch with a weaker and dumber demon. And Victor seemed to smile luck, the

  contract was almost concluded with a rare stupid creature, which by some miracle was a

  demon of medium rank. But man assumes and fate laughs. Poisonously, sarcastically

  laughs at Victor's efforts. For who for her eternal fortune archmage hemomancer. Only a

  pathetic pawn in the universal game. A dumb demon who hasn't even managed to get his

  True Name yet, managed to talk his way out of it. And one of the dark lords has learned of

  the blood mage's adventure. The One Who Waits one of the six demon lords simply killed

  his servant by ripping off his stupid head. For at stake was the almost free soul of a human

  archmage.

  The contract had been started but not finalized. And the One Who Waits was eager to

  reissue it to himself.

  But Victor, the original void be damned, was not going to give up. There was one idea that

  the blood mage could fulfill. But as he thought about it.

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  was interrupted by a knock on the door. All the loyal servants had been evacuated

  beforehand, and all the victims were already dead. So there was only one person who could

  act ridiculously polite right now. The door creaked open and a young man dressed like a rich

  citizen entered the hall, smiling awkwardly. Victor didn't take his eyes off the patterns for a

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  second.

  — Hello Victor Sangius, would you like to renegotiate your contract with me?

  — Go back to the abyss. Not even a snotty drunken neophyte would fall for such a

  disguise.

  — Ai Yai. How rude Mr. Mage, I haven't personally visited potential clients in ages.

  — I wouldn't see you again for eternity, you fallen deity.

  — You know that once you start the contract ritual, you can't give up power of the

  underside. So you must choose another demon.

  Victor only smirked. Unlike the other dark lords, the One Who Waits had been born a light

  god from the beginning, so he liked to give the illusion of possible hope to his victim. But a

  fallen god is not a dumb brat without a name, he will sooner or later wait for your mistake

  and eat your soul. The stories of mages who were able to get the power of the dark lords

  and not pay for it were just tales for neophytes. So it was necessary to act while the power

  received from the nameless demon was bubbling inside.

  The old man smiled. He had time. Victor slit his throat with a sharp movement and fell to the

  stone floor, splashing blood all around. The One Who Waits stared at the suicidal mage in

  bewilderment. Whatever he had in mind, the rules of the universe could not be broken. The

  fallen deity reached out with his power to the astral plane of existence to get the soul of the

  insolent magician. But to the amazement of the dark lord Victor's soul simply disappeared.

  And the seal of the demonic contract could not determine where now the spirit of the

  magician, as if he had disappeared from this world.

  **************

  The estate of the family.

  The inconsolable mother of the family looked at the body of her eldest son. Her

  firstborn had almost stopped breathing. The young boy with blond, almost white hair had

  just entered what could be called adolescence. But he was already dying. The young man

  lay on the table surrounded by a magical barrier. It was a good thing that the youngest

  daughter of the family name was already asleep in her bed and didn't see the despair on her

  mother's face.

  No matter how hard the woman tried, she couldn't find a way to break the curse that was

  killing her child. At least not until . After the death of her husband, it was her son who

  remained the last hope for the return of the greatness of the family. In front of Alexandra

  lay an almost decayed piece of parchment, where on the already

  the dead ancient language spoke of the ritual of the Two-Soul. It was a ritual that implanted a being from other layers of existence into a person, essentially creating a new soul split in

  two. A completely insane plan that could have unpredictable results. But there was nothing

  left to lose, her son Vladimir was dying.

  The terrible guttural sounds of an ancient dialect rang out. The barrier began to shake,

  flashing blue, as if the magic itself feared such a ritual. Eerie voices sounded around

  laughing, threatening and crying ordering the woman to open the door to the other side. To

  open it as wide as possible, so that the inhabitants of other layers of the world could fun in

  the reality of the living.

  And then a wave of cold ran through the air and it was over. The barrier held, and to

  Alexandra's unbelievable joy, her son stood up with a heavy sigh. Then he looked at her

  with a completely alien look, as if he had seen her for the first time in his life.

  — Madam, can you tell the traveler where he ?

  The one who was now inside the heir of the family looked quite pleased. There was a smile

  on his face, but his eyes were cold and scrutinizing. And for some reason, the smell of blood

  lingered in the air.